


Youth and Calm

by foggynite



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Ocean's Eleven spoilers, Ocean's Twelve spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 07:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Linus and Turk have a talk on a train. Then in a bar.
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Turk Malloy
Kudos: 4





	Youth and Calm

**Author's Note:**

> Originally uploaded to FFN on Jun 27, 2005, then updated Dec 17, 2006.
> 
> Notes: Title taken from "Youth and Calm" by Matthew Arnold   
> Warnings: Spoilers for Ocean's 11 and 12.

The entire job was a nightmare.

Linus stared at his crossword puzzle, wondering what “a cherished name in Calcutta” was in an attempt to ignore the shoving match going on across the train cabin. Livingston was snoring lightly next to him, and Linus had no idea how the small man could sleep through the Malloy brothers’ antics. Linus certainly couldn’t.

Which was why he was filling out one of the cheap crossword puzzle books he’d picked up in O’Hare before he flew out to start this whole thing. His mom always told him to have a prop to work with readily available. You never knew when you had to look busy and inconspicuous.

Linus liked being part of the con world. The rush, the thrill. It was his life’s calling. He’d been scamming since he was in diapers. Only, he was always going to be Bobby Caldwell’s kid. The Bellagio heist was supposed to let him make his own reputation, his own name. And it had, to a degree. He’d been pulling small-time scams in between classes, nothing huge.

Then Terry Benedict showed up in his apartment, key conveniently “borrowed” from the landlord, and they went for a walk.

It was bad enough their lives were on the line. They had to pay back over ninety-seven million dollars in less than two weeks. Danny and Rusty had a plan, or so they said, and now everyone was on a train to North Paris. Except Yen was traveling in a duffel bag to God-knew-where, Frank was in jail, and Saul was getting ready to die.

Linus paused to fish a roll of Tums out of his pocket. It was half-way gone already.

Thing was, he wanted to impress Rusty and Danny, show them he could be trusted, be that guy he always wanted to be. The slick man his dad would admire. But things weren’t exactly going as planned. The tension between Danny and Rusty was obvious. They were like two dancers doing different steps-- the tango and a waltz at the same time with cringe-worthy results. Of course, during the Bellagio heist, he’d thought the same thing and it turned out _they_ were scamming _him_ , which had sucked. But he was getting used to that.

This time, though, it seemed more than a ploy on their parts. They were seriously on different wavelengths. Maybe those rumors about Danny leaving the game were true.

Then the whole Saul thing. It wasn’t crippling to the whole gig, at least not so far, but having someone with his experience and skill would go a long way to temper this weirdness between Rusty and Danny. Reuben was maybe the only one who had known the both of them as long as Saul, but he was more likely to henpeck Rusty and then egg them on.

Factor in the imminent threat of death and dismemberment by a goon squad, and everyone was understandably edgy. Even the Malloy brothers seemed like they were seriously fighting instead of goofing around like before.

At least they were being quiet again.

Linus quickly glanced up to make sure no one was bleeding or unconscious. Directly in front of him, Turk had his arms crossed over his chest, gaze trained on a distant point out the window. Virgil was snapping his gum loudly and fiddling with his palm pilot. Livingston kept snoring.

Relieved, Linus continued his crossword. It usually helped to calm him down.

After the silence had dragged out for a good ten minutes– The longest Linus had seen the brothers be still– Virgil stood suddenly, holding on to the overhead luggage rack to keep his balance. Without a word, he headed for the door.

Looking away from the window, Turk asked quietly, “Where’re you going?”

Virgil paused. “To get some lunch. Why, that a problem?”

Turk frowned and returned to the window, not responding. Linus cleared his throat.

“I thought Danny told us to keep a low profile.”

Virgil regarded him like he was a particularly stupid child. “I’m just going to the food car. It’s not like I’m gonna hi-jack the train.”

Before Linus could think of a sufficiently witty retort, Virgil yanked the sliding cabin door open and slammed it shut. Livingston startled awake.

“Huh- Whu–?”

Yeah, things were fine. Just great. Linus returned to the puzzle, wondering if he had any aspirin handy, too. After a while, Livingston’s snores filled the cabin.

An unhappy sigh drew Linus’ attention up again. Turk was glaring at the glass like it was a personal affront.

This brooding preoccupation wasn’t new for him. Linus had noticed it earlier. No one else seemed too concerned, but honestly, the Malloy brothers were scattered enough, they didn’t need anything else interfering with their concentration. Maybe it was just Linus’ imagination, or nerves. Or maybe everyone was too focused on the big picture to notice these little details that could screw them later.

So what would Danny do in this situation?

Linus mulled it over, absently filling in a word. Honestly, Danny would probably ask Rusty, who would somehow manage to psychically know what was up. That not being an option, Linus just had to go with his gut. That’s what his dad always said-- _If something’s gnawing at you, it’s probably for a good reason._ Well, that and, _When in doubt, get the hell out of Dodge._ Which also wasn’t an option, no matter how nice it would be.

He glanced at Turk again. The getaway driver looked like he was lost in thought. And like he could seriously maim Linus if he took exception to questioning.

Go with his gut. Right.

“So,” he tried to sound casual, speaking softly. “Are you two–?”

He gestured vaguely after Virgil with his pen. Turk focused on him, looking at the door with a wince.

“We’ve, ah, had some issues.” His eyes skittered over Linus, then back to the window. “We’ll be fine.”

An awkward silence descended as Turk slumped further in his seat, body language getting more defensive. Linus quickly averted his eyes from the muscles of the other man’s forearms. Instead, he stared blindly at his puzzle, thinking of ways to salvage the conversation, and decided to just try again.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a brother,” he offered with another pen wave. Turk looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, that could have come out better. Real smooth... Linus shifted in his seat. “I’m an only child, and we moved around a lot, so I never really had a chance to keep friends. But I figured a brother would...”

He flailed his pen a bit more, hoping he was getting across. For some reason, he felt like a total tool whenever he tried talking to the elder Malloy. This time was no different.

But the personal info seemed to do the trick. Shoulders relaxing, Turk sprawled a little further across the cabin, legs splayed. Linus resolutely kept his eyes trained above the man’s waist. This was serious business. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. None of them could.

Giving an especially loud snore, Livingston muttered, “Not now, Mom. Just five more minutes.”

They both glanced at the computer hacker, then at each other. Linus blinked and shook his head. He didn’t want to know. Smirking, Turk shrugged.

“It’s not that bad,” Turk said quietly once Livingston had settled down. “I mean, it’s just the two of us, which is weird for our family, but we’ve always been there for each other, y’know? Sometimes things are good. Sometimes they’re not.”

He trailed off and Linus resisted the urge to press. Turk seemed like the type to take his time, for all that he and his brother were like hyperactive labradors when it came to their work. They were the closest to his age in the group but couldn’t have been more different than him. Linus had to admit, he found their abundant energy to be intimidating at times.

Staring down at his puzzle, he quickly looked up when Turk continued in hushed tones.

“It’s just... It’s hard when you grow up together, doing all the same things, having the same friends and all, then suddenly one day it’s not good enough for him anymore. Like everything we’d been planning to do for the past ten years is beneath him. So he goes and makes all these plans, and now none of them include me. Like _I’m_ not good enough for him.”

Someone passed by outside the door and Turk broke off, frowning. Linus blinked a few times at the quiet diatribe, then pressed his lips together and fiddled with his pen.

“Money does funny things to people,” he finally murmured. “I think this group knows it better than most...”

Turk snorted and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “It wouldn’t be so damn hard if it was just the money. Hell, I’ve got money too, and he goes and gets all pissed off at me when I go and open a shop, like we’ve been saying we were gonna do. Just ‘cause I wanna build something, have something that’ll last... He just wants to blow all his share on Dina and his shiny new life, but do I say anything? No. I let him do his thing, don’t question his lifestyle choices, and just keep my head low, and then he hates my guts.”

There wasn’t much Linus could say to that without sounding condescending, so he settled for, “I’m sorry. It must be difficult.”

Turk shrugged. “There’s some other stuff going on, too. It’s a mess. But I’ll deal. Maybe this whole thing will help...”

He nodded, then blushed when he realized they were staring at each other. Turk smiled as Linus fumbled with his book and cleared his throat, at a loss. Then Livingston shifted and the moment was broken.

Pretending to return to his puzzle, Linus was hyper aware of Turk leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. He risked a glance up, quickly studying the other man’s relaxed features before focusing on his book again. He was holding his pen upside down.

He really couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. There was too much already at risk.

~~~

Linus didn't know what he expected, really.

Elation at being back in the game with men who were what he one day hoped to become? Relief at not being dead, at being able to throw out his half-eaten roll of antacids?

They'd had their game of poker, the whole "team" together, and he'd had a heart attack when Rusty brought his new/old/ex-cop girlfriend along for shits and giggles, there'd been champagne all around, and now they were going their separate ways again. The adrenaline that had buoyed him for (what felt like forever) weeks was finally wearing off, but he swore-- He swore-- there were still people following him, flickering in the periphery of his vision, but he knew that was just exhaustion and maybe some post-traumatic stress talking there.

He'd been planning to catch a quick nap in his fancy hotel room, but he couldn't relax long enough to fall asleep, champagne bubbling in his system. Not with an early flight out in the morning and the thought that everything was over now.

But was it really?

Benedict didn't seem like the type to let slights go-- ever-- and Toulour had a bigger ego than Danny, so yeah. It didn't feel like it was over.

But it was.

With a sigh, he rolled off the bed, slipping on his shoes and gathering his key card, wallet. Habit made him keep everything he wanted to run with on his person at all times, and anything he left behind he didn't mind losing. Life as Bobby Caldwell's son had taught him not to get too attached to anything from an early age.

The lobby wasn't as busy as he expected, but then, even in Vegas there were slump times, and for here, it looked like three in the morning was it. But the bar was barely inhabited, and that's what he wanted.

"Sea breeze, please," he ordered quietly, slipping onto a stool.

The bartender turned away with an air of heavy boredom to make his drink. An old man at the end of the counter was watching the television mounted on the wall, and the high-pitched dings of the slot machines and computerized games were a familiar sound. Add in the haze of cigarette smoke, and Linus relaxed a little. Something about money moving around him, people chatting, people sitting there mechanical-- it was a little part of his world, but it was something he'd grown up with and it soothed him.

Garnishing his glass with a wedge of lime, the bartender placed it on a napkin in front of him and he slid a twenty over. He had two hours before he had to leave for the airport and he hated flying.

Two hours, and he'd be back in Chicago, lifting wallets on the L for kicks and maybe attending classes. Looking for the next big thrill and getting on with life in the meantime.

Movement in the bar mirrors caught his eye as Turk paused in the entranceway, eyes on Linus' back. Forcing himself to stay relaxed, Linus just sipped his drink and regarded the television with disinterest.

Resolved of whatever conflict he had, Turk continued in, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, tough guy face on.

"After all that champagne, you're going for more fruity shit?" Turk asked with a snort as he took the stool next to Linus. To the bartender, he said, "Jack and Coke."

"I thought Mormons didn't drink?" Linus responded mildly, swirling the ice in his glass. When Turk didn't respond, Linus glanced at him, but the other man looked away.

"Whatever." Turk muttered under his breath and knocked his drink back like an old hand when it was placed in front of him.

Linus arched an eyebrow at how quickly the first glass disappeared.

"Although, I guess you do a lot of stuff you're not supposed to, don't you," he drawled and decided that he might be a little bit tipsy if he was channeling Danny. He'd certainly left his common sense long behind if he was taunting a guy who was built enough to rip his arms off and beat him to death with them.

Not that Linus found that attractive at all. And he wasn't flirting, either.

Turk was watching him with an odd expression, one that might have been a glare, but wasn't harsh enough. Curious, maybe. But, most importantly, not homicidal.

As their eyes met and Turk didn't look away, Linus moved the expression more towards the "interested" category. After all, he wasn't that drunk, and there'd been other looks cast his way that he'd caught over the past weeks.

Linus was content to let himself be scrutinized, leaning his elbows on the bar and rolling his glass between his palms. He'd learned how to be patient, and when to let the silence work for him.

Turning away, Turk frowned down at his empty glass. He ordered another Jack and Coke, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the bar's surface.

The shrill of Turk's cellphone interrupted their quiet, his ring tone an R&B song Linus vaguely recognized.

Pulling the phone out of his pocket, Turk glared at the caller ID and quickly flipped the phone open then shut again. After a moment's hesitation, Turk shut the phone off.

Linus propped his chin on his fist.

"Harsh."

Turk shrugged and downed his second drink as easily as his first.

Filing the reaction away, Linus continued to nurse his own drink. By all appearances, the Malloy brothers had settled into a détente, most of their aggression an act for the sake of the scam, but Linus knew that the cleft ran deeper than their usual antics. Snippets of furiously whispered arguments and insults thrown at each other, and Linus was pretty sure he knew why, too. Not that he could come right out and ask, though. Flirting or not, he was pretty sure that could get him injured.

Turk was on his third Jack and Coke before he slowed down, let the drink sit in front of him untouched for a few minutes.

"You flyin' out?" He asked Linus suddenly.

Taking it in stride, Linus shrugged. "I have a ticket. You?"

"Drove." Turk clenched his teeth, glaring at his melting ice cubes.

Linus was willing to wait him out.

"We had an agreement," Turk finally said, trying to sound gruff and really just sounding hurt, confused. "We drove in, and we'd go back together. Then he throws a shit fit, and now he's on the first flight out."

"Sounds rough," Linus murmured, finishing off his first drink.

Turk waved a hand, making a self-deprecating noise.

"Naw, I'm just pissed at him. He'd put his wedding on hold to do this, so of course he wants to get back." He lifted his glass, sipping it. "I just hate driving by myself."

Linus had a flash then, of Turk in one of his huge trucks, Linus in the passenger seat, probably surrounded by fast food bags and god knew what else. Arguing politely over the radio station, where to stop for breaks.

He grinned.

"I've always been partial to road trips, myself," he said, wondering if Turk would take the bait.

The elder Malloy gave him an appraising look. A knowing look. Not so much taking the bait as being on the same page.

"Your ticket?"

Linus snorted, motioning to the bartender for another drink.

"Not like I can't afford it."

Later, when he staggered with Turk into his hotel room-- When they struggled to get out of their button-up shirts and ended up ripping half of Turk's buttons off-- When Turk wrapped his arms around Linus' shoulders to press drunken kisses along his neck—

Linus wondered if he hadn't found his next thrill after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://jrocci.tumblr.com/)


End file.
